


but what if: HOTH SPRINGS

by mudkipwrites



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, During Canon, Episode: s02e10 The Passenger, Excessive Lasat Cum, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Gratuitous Smut, Hot Tub Sex, Knotting, Learning To Talk To Each Other Like Proper Adults, M/M, Miscommunication, Movie: Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Planet Hoth (Star Wars), Post Star Wars: Rebels, Pre-Relationship, The Mandalorian (TV) Spoilers, Wet & Messy, Xeno dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27478990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudkipwrites/pseuds/mudkipwrites
Summary: After settling down at Hoth's new Echo Base, rebel captains Kallus and Zeb haven't seen much of each other. But that's all about to change, given the new partner mission that they're being sent on.  (Inspired by "The Passenger" episode of The Mandalorian, Season 2!)
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 24
Kudos: 149





	but what if: HOTH SPRINGS

**Author's Note:**

> Along with the film cameo, I'd like to thank @elleTchi for allowing me to include her OC pilot, Ghillie, in this little story. Ghillie belongs to her, and if you'd like to see some truly rad artwork of them, check out this link on Elle's Twitter. Thanks, Elle! And thanks for all of your *inspirational* Kalluzeb smut.

* * *

Grumbling under his breath with annoyance, Kallus tightens the scarf around his neck. 

Once again, he’s out on a freezing, break-of-dawn expedition with his fellow rebels; and, _once again_ , they’ve found nothing dangerous, nor even anything relatively noteworthy, to report back to the newly-established site of Echo Base. _Still, it’s better to know our opponents on_ ** _this_** _side of the battle,_ General Leia Organa had said at their briefing. _We don’t want to be caught by surprise, and end up marooned in an ice cave with our enemies. Do we?_

Kallus grinds his teeth. 

He suspects that this particular comment had been directed towards him. And yet, he cannot be sure, as he’s only just met the woman. Kallus knows how quickly rumors can grow and spread around the rebel base--and, whether they have a foothold in reality or not, it’s only a matter of time until the latest gossip has spread to everyone. Even the new general. 

Ice is sticking his nostrils together, so Kallus snorts hot air from deep inside his lungs. He cups his hands, collecting the fleeing moisture over his noise before it’s whisked away. _Terrible._ Everything is terrible on this new, sub-zero, _horrible_ planet. If you’d ask for his opinion, Captain Alexsandr Kallus hadn’t minded the muggy, humid heat on the moon of Yavin IV in the slightest. In fact, he’d embraced it: by taking advantage of the early-morning warmth in waking up before dawn for his daily sprints; by soaking in the very last rays of sun and early starlight, staying out to spar with Zeb in hand-to-hand combat. 

_Captain_ Zeb Orrelios. _Chief-of-Security._

Kallus grunts, dropping his mitted hands deep into his pockets. He hasn’t seen much of his good friend Zeb since they’d arrived on the blasted planet, and since the Lasat had received his promotion. In spite of how close the pair of them had grown, Kallus has caught neither hide nor hair of the rebel since he’d first been sent out on these icy-cold field expeditions. At first, he'd been unsure why he'd been so annoyed; later, he'd become accepting of the near-constant headache. Because what had first occurred to him as a long-held impatience with his friend had revealed itself to be a heartbroken, irritable _crush._ And now? _F_ aced with weeks upon weeks of bone-chilling cold, without so much as a wave from his very best friend? Captain Kallus' body aches for the warmth of the toothy, fanged smile upon his Garazeb's face. 

_Get it together,_ he scolds himself sharply. _You’re a captain for the rebellion now! You can’t just go dumping your attitude on everybody because you’re tired and lonely._

Resentfully, Kallus kicks at the snow. A chunk of ice resists at the toe his boot, but a clod of the stuff scatters into the blustering wind. Kallus smiles grimly, glaring at the bone-chilling slush with an anger it doesn't deserve. These days, he's _never_ warm anymore; none of the humans, in his estimation, seem to be. Hoth's inhospitable climate is one of the reasons that it had been deemed ideal for the rebellion's next hosting planet, but that didn't mean that his furless frame was Even though he is decked out in layers upon _layers_ of thick, heavy snowsuit, the former Coruscanti man finds himself shivering against against the bite of the icy, harsh winds.

Pulled from his moody ponder, Kallus spies a snowsuit-clad figure waving at him. 

“Found something?” He yells, raising his chin from the scarf’s bed of warmth to pelt his voice above the wind. But when the snowsuit-clad figure flashes a negative, his shoulders slump back into their nest safety. “Carry on, then,” he instructs, waving a hand. _We’re all tired,_ he thinks, watching his ragtag group of Snowbank Group rebels continue through knee-deep, wet snow. _We’ve been out here since dawn, and it’s nearly lunchtime. If we don’t find anything by noon proper, I’m going to call just call this whole day as finished._ He could use the rest. Kallus hasn't slept proper since Yavin. Not since he'd last seen Zeb; not since they'd been on the regular pattern of seeing one another, sparring and flirting and sharing their breakfast...

Kallus is so busy brooding that he startles when the snowsuit-clad figure reaches him. “Nearly time for a lunch break, don’t you think?” the young person asks him cheerily, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “I’m freezing my ass off out here, Captain!”

The former-ISB agent tries not to roll his eyes and groan as he recognizes the handsome, dark-skinned figure smiling back at him. Ghillie, a charming young pilot from Naboo, has become a regular and present on his Snowbank team since arriving on-planet. _(Why the general had sent him out with a pilot, of all people, on his glacial expedition search team, he’ll never know.)_ Kallus doesn't exactly _dislike_ the human--with his friendly nature, bright eyes and winning smile--but he doesn't know if he can trust them, either. Ghillie seems to have this way of reading his mind; and, without fail, he always seems to want to bring up his relationship with Orrelios. 

And Kallus doesn't like _that._

“A pity," he sniffs, channeling some of his frostiness from former Imperial days is hopes to deter the impending conversation. "That would truly be a loss for the rebellion." It doesn't work well. Ghillie smiles widely, elbowing Captain Kallus and drawing closer. "You appear to have found something worthy of our interest, soldier?" 

Undeterred by his manner, young Ghillie laughs. They tug at the braided strings of their flop-eared winter cap. “Well sir, I'm glad you agree!" they chuckle. "It's a _remarkable_ ass." Settling into a more serious face at Kallus' stern expression, the continue: "Relax, captain. I'm just trying to make the best of our time here." They lift a hand, gesturing at the closest group of rebels hunched over the trail. "It seems as though we found another pair of Wampa tracks. Not fresh ones, though," the add hastily, seeing his expression. "Looks like they might've been from last night, or early this morning." 

"Good enough," Captain Kallus replies shortly. He steps away, hoping to put some distance between himself and the pilot. Kallus knows that this person is also a friend of _Zeb's_ \--and that fact alone isn't making him feel any friendlier. "Carry on."

Unfortunately, the human persists in following him. They fall into step with his dogged pace, hustling until their boots are stepping in soldierly motion. "Kinda pointless, to still be out here after all these weeks, huh?" they ask, twirling the strings of their hat once again. "No sign of anything dangerous, and we've scored these hills high and low. It's almost like they're trying to keep us _busy,_ while the other crews are settling the base down. Keep us feeling like we're working on something, even though they have no work for us." 

Kallus grunts. "I'll find something else to keep you busy," he warns, "if you keep bothering me." 

Ghillie trots along, smiling contentedly. "Unless they suspect something _else_ is out here," they continue, raising dark eyebrows conspiratorially. "What if we're hunting for, I don't know, lizard-chickens?" Kallus stops sharply, turning to look at the person. They're grinning, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Maybe they're expecting for us to fall into a cave, and to snuggle together for survival warmth?"

And: _t_ _hat's_ quite enough. Kallus curls his lip at the pilot, storming away in the other direction.

"Ah, c'mon!" Ghillie calls after him. "We all know the stories!" And _y_ _es,_ Kallus thinks. _That's exactly the problem._ It doesn't matter how far he travels; it doesn't matter that Garazeb Orrelios hasn't spoken with him for _weeks,_ or that he may have completely forgotten about his existence. Rumors travel fast around the rebellion, and so seemingly _everyone,_ even the newest of recruits knows, that he's got it _bad_ for his best friend Garazeb.

Everyone, apparently, except for Orrelios. 

_I don't want to talk about Bahryn, Kallus_ fumes, plowing through the thick snow with strides of anger-fueld determination. His legs are longer than most other humans, and so he quickly puts distance between himself and Ghillie. _I certainly don't want to talk about_ Garazeb. Because, clearly _,_ Alexsandr Kallus doesn't mean as much to the Lasat as the Lasat truly means to him. Obviously _,_ if Captain Orrelios can go for weeks without so much as catching him in the mess hall, then 'what they had' back on Bahryn is next to nothing. _I don't mean anything to him after all,_ Kallus thinks, grinding his boots into the brilliant, eye-watering snow. _Not if I am so very disposable._

He's walked quite a distance away from his team before Kallus notices that he is not alone. Turning swiftly, he faces Ghillie, who lifts up two hands in a placating gesture. "Captain?” they say, “Are you alright? You seem... _unwell.”_

“I’m _fine!”_ Kallus snaps, far too quickly, and in a voice that betrays himself as less. “It’s _cold_ , and it’s _dull_ , and we haven’t found anything in over _two weeks_.” He raises a hand, pinching the bridge of his frozen nose with the tips of his ungloved fingers. For a moment, Kallus considers shoving the soldier into a snowbank; but then, he remembers his duties as a rebellion captain, and that he cannot simply kick soldiers off of hanging bridges anymore. “I’m sorry, pilot," he sighs, wishing that he was back in the tropics of Yavin IV. "I haven’t been sleeping well, as of late. I do, however, appreciate your concern."

Ghillie hums, and perhaps a bit doubtfully.

"Very good sir," they say, "that's excellent news. Especially as these missions have been wearing on all of us." They gesture back to the waiting group. "I just hope that you aren't being too hard on yourself at this time, while you're all alone. At least I've got my friends and partners: _you're_ out here in the snow without your Garazeb. I can't _imagine_ doing this kind of difficult work without being around my support." 

Kallus freezes, and not from the cold. “He’s!--” the former Imperial licks at his cracked, ice-chapped lips. _“--Zeb is_ _not my partner!”_

But even as he says it, Kallus feels himself crumbling into the warm embrace of that comforting image. The thought of being together with Zeb; of _belonging_ to one another, _like that,_ with his best friend--it’s enchanting. _Consuming._ He closes his eyes. Yes, Kallus has fantasized _(almost constantly)_ about such a relationship since their growing bond on Yavin IV. But he’d never yet _trusted_ it. He’s never heard someone speak those words, and with such _confidence,_ out loud and in his presence. If he just keeps his eyes closed, he can allow himself to sink into the _rightness_ of it; the perfect, beautiful _deliciousness_ of it. Of the thought of these nights in his cold, lonely bed being, at last, at their final end. 

“Hmmm,” Ghillie says again. Their voice sounds thoughtful. “My fault then. I must've misunderstood him.” He side-eyes his captain in a playful manner, as if begging him to ask for more details. 

Resisting the impulse is difficult. Kallus feels his himself flushing, and he wants to strain against his cool professionalism. His heart thunders loudly inside of his chest, and Kallus wonders if the sound is audible to Ghillie, and possibly, the others back several clicks. _What exactly are they implying?!_ He wonders, watching them grin at him in a knowing way. _What did Zeb say to them? When?!_ He wants to beg, but that would be improper. And, bundled up as he is against the cold, Kallus still feels his body shudder. _Zeb. Could he really have been...talking about me?_

But Kallus does not want to hope. He does not want to fan the coals inside of his chest, which have been crumbling since their arrival on Hoth. Not when he cannot be certain of Garazeb Orrelios.

"A common misunderstanding, soldier," he says cooly to Ghillie. "But no need to worry. Rest assured you that I am doing just fine; and that I hope the best for my _colleague_ , Orrelios."

The lie tastes bad on his tongue, but the pilot from Naboo doesn't seem to notice. Or at least, they will pretend not to notice, swiftly changing tactics to the topic at hand. With wide, pleading eyes, they drop their gloved hands to rest protectively over their belly. "Oh, _good!_ Well, In that case, can we _please_ break for lunch?" they give a dramatic shiver. "I'm down to my very last calorie, here!"

Kallus snorts, shaking his head. "You don't even care about me. You're only here for the _snacks._ " The former Imperial turns, aiming his snow boots back towards Echo Base. "All right, then: hurry up and gather the others. We're going to head in for an early lunch." 

The look that Ghillie flashes him is filled with cheer. Punching him in lightly in the shoulder, the young human starts back towards the bright-colored group. "Did ya'll hear that?!" they call, voice raised to a bellow above the wind. "Shift's over! _Lunch time!_ Let's get back to base!" And, as he watches the Naboo pilot depart, there is a twinge in Kallus' heartstrings. Often, the human reminds him of Zeb; and it's time like these where he really misses his friend. No matter what he pretends or says, he'd give practically anything to split a hot sandwich with him right now. 

Sighing and squaring his shoulders, Kallus makes his way towards the awaiting rebels. There will be time for day-dreaming later; right now, he must return their crew safely to base. 

* * *

With a grunt of exhaustion, Zeb slumps over the frost-coated desk where he’s been working. 

This morning marks the fifth in a row that he’s stayed up all night to observe the goings-on at Echo Base. Since landing upon the rebellion’s new home, the Lasat rebel has hardly been able to snatch a moment alone to himself; let alone, some of those much-craved moments with his best friend, Alexsandr Kallus.

 _Karabast,_ he rumbles moodily, shuffling stacks of haphazard flimsy. _When Hera told me that I’d have my chance to lead as theHead of Security, I thought it would be more than desk work._

It’s true enough that Zeb likes his new job. He’s good at it, after all, and it needs to be done to secure the new base on Hot. But as someone who’d once been an Honor Guard soldier, he would much rather be out in the field doing the work alongside his friend. He’d rather be out on the prowl, fighting and finding monsters, swapping banter and sparring with Kal. Zeb sighs, wistfully thinking of their time together on Yavin IV, and the easy pattern that they’d fallen into of working, sparring and drinking until the stars faded to dawn…

In spite of his tiredness, Garazeb smiles. 

The striped Lasat yawns, fangs smacking quietly in the low light. _Time for a break,_ he thinks, scratching the side of his face. As he does this, he notices the way that his clawed fingers snag in the tangles of his purple beard, revealing its desperate need for a trim. _Can’t do my job well on this little sleep anyway,_ he decides. _Might as well get some rest._ Zeb rises from his desk and is just about to head off for the barracks when the sound of snowboot-clad footfalls catches his attention. 

“Captain Orrelios?” a now-familiar voice calls across the icy chamber, making his ears swivel. “May I have a quick moment of your time?” 

Rising to his full height and squaring his shoulders, Zeb turns to and nods at General Organa. The brown-haired, blue-eyed human woman is slightly taller than his captain Hera, but she is just as fierce and determined. He hadn’t been sure of her at first, but it hadn’t taken long for Zeb to fall into step under her leadership. Leia had a natural, effective way of instilling _hope_ within others; and a presence that made her soldiers want to trust and obey her. 

“General,” he says, inclining his head. “Good morning. How can I help you?” 

The mid-size human comes to standing in front of him, resting her hands upon her hips. She’s wearing an outfit of plush, white-checkered winter insulation fabric, and Zeb imagines that it helps her furless flesh to be more comfortable in this frigid climate. _Like Kallus,_ he thinks to himself. _He ought to be bundled up properly. Otherwise, he’ll get frostbite on all of that pretty, fair skin._

The thought of Kallus shivering in the cold makes a rumble of protest lodge in his throat. 

“At ease, Captain,” she says, smiling. “I know that you’ve been pulling some long shifts this week, so I have a different assignment for you today. _After_ you get some rest,” she adds with a chuckle, reacting to what must be his look of weariness. “You practically look dead on your feet. Anyhow, once you get some rest, please report to the Tower Group for field instructions. I’m sending you out with a partner to inspect a potential hotspot for hostile creatures.”

In spite of his tiredness Zeb’s ears perk up with interest. 

“Field mission?” he asks eagerly, unable to keep back the grin. “ _Karabast,_ General, you read my mind! What kind of creatures are we talkin’?” 

The woman shrugs her shoulders, white-gloved hands remaining upon her hips. “I’m not sure. That’s why I want to send you, with some backup. As someone who is familiar with the more _dangerous_ features of a glacial planet, I’d like to have your professional opinion on the matter.”

Zeb’s rising mood flickers with brief annoyance. _Ah, kriff it anyway! Even the general has heard about the gossip of me an’ Kallus crash landing on Bahryn._

Ever intuitive, General Organa chuckles. “Don’t worry, Captain Orrelios. I have full confidence in you and your abilities to bring us back a full report. From what I’ve learned from General Syndulla and Lieutenant Bridger, there is _nobody_ more qualified for a dangerous mission like this.” She smiles, blue gaze focusing on him intently. “Or perhaps, only the other person I’m sending with you. Which is what makes you the ideal partnership for this mission.”

Zeb raises his heavy eyebrows. _Who do you have in mind?_

“I’ve already informed Captain Kallus of your departure,” she replies, as if reading his mind. “Please, take some time to rest up. Then, once you are ready, you may report back to Tower Group. They’ll have your map, comms, and detailed instructions of your mission location.” She smirks, apparently able to read the poorly-masked delight upon Zeb’s face. “And do bring your bo-rifle with you, Captain Orrelios. We’ve heard scouting rumors of Krykna.” 

And even _that_ news cannot not dampen his spirits. 

Suppressing a shudder, Zeb solutes his departing general. _Really, though, who cares about facing horrific, many-legged monsters, so long as I get to see my Kallus again?!_ The flood of warmth that ripples through him is enough to take the edge off of the sick, icy image of giant spiders. _My Kallus,_ he thinks, shaking his head. _Better be careful. There’s no telling if he’ll be just as happy to see me again, or if he missed me the way that I missed him._

_For all I know, he hasn’t even noticed how long I’ve been gone._

* * *

With a snarl and a wave of his blaster, Kallus dodges the nearest stab of the sharp-legged Krykna. He sucks in a tight, burning breath, feeling his lungs ache from the fierce cold of caverns beneath Hoth’s surface. As the creature stomps another long, frost-crusted leg towards his fleshy insides, he hears the roaring yell of his mission partner. 

_“Kal!_ Heads up, there’s one on yer flank!” 

Captain Zeb Orrelios is swinging his bo-rifle in a wide, vicious circle, taking out two of the arachnid creatures in one, elliptical blow. The snowsuit-clad Lasat _should_ look like a bright-yellow marshmallow in his bulky snowsuit; but Kallus finds himself sucking in a startled, impressed breath at the magnificent sight. Despite all his years of military training and combat, he’s _never_ seen anyone fight like Garazeb. It still makes his heart lurch into his throat. 

“KAL!” Zeb barks again, turning his luminous, green eyes on him. His face holds and expression of incredulous fury. “What’re ya doin?! _Move!”_

As he hears the sound of clicking, wet jaws above his head, Kallus springs into action. Forgetting how angry he is at Zeb for abandoning him in these past few months--forgetting the icy silence that has lasted between the two of them since they’d met up at Tower Group, and how they’d trudged through the deep, darkening snow together without so much as speaking of the weather--he calls out to the other, knowing that he will answer. 

“Zeb! _Distract it!_ I’m going to aim for the underbelly from here!” 

It has been weeks since their time in battle together on Yavin IV. Long enough that the tanned skin had sloughed off his shoulders, and long enough that his slim fingertips have been replaced with the cool threat of frostbite. And yet, their bodies flow into perfect, tandem motion: knowing and trusting each other, picking up where the other leaves off, they work their way into the heat of victorious battle. In a graceful movement, Zeb lunges through the snow and begins to batter the front of the creature with crackling, purple sparks from his bo-rifle; at the same time, Kallus tucks in his head and rolls out from his cover, finding himself beneath the soft, exposed belly of the unsuspecting creature. 

_“Almost there,”_ he mutters. Kallus shifts upon his shoulders and pushes down with his heels to wriggle, space-crab-like, for a better angle. _“Almost…”_

“Get WRECKED _!”_ Zeb bellows, lashing at the creature’s many, blinking eyes. Purple ripples to standing on his neck and shoulders, grey muzzle wrinkling with layers of aggression. Kallus grins; he _knows_ how much the other man hates spiders. In spite of his fierce presentation, he suspects that Zeb is internally _squealing._

“NOW, Zeb!” Kallus hollers. 

In a flurry of blaster-fires, he unloads his weapon at the Krykna. True to his aim, the brilliant-red bolts collide with the unprotected belly of the arachnid, puncturing the soft, sand-grey flesh and unleashing the load of its jelly-like entrails. “ _Kriff!”_ Kallus yells as green, viscous liquid pours down upon him, slopping over his helmet and snowsuit. “Aww, _Karabast!”_ he adds as the foul-smelling guts pour in through the crevices. 

Above him, he hears a final series of shock-blasts emanate from Zeb’s bo-rifle. With a crackling hiss, the finished creature shudders and falls, curling off the side in a tangle of dripping limbs.

“Coulda told me that ya wanted to _smell_!” the voice of his friend echoes in a laugh from above. Kallus looks up, seeing the Lasat sheathing his bo-rifle upon his back and grinning like he’s just arrived at Life Day. “I woulda just rolled ya in some _Lasat_ scent, and everybody would be headin’ for the hills.” 

“Ha-ha,” Kallus intones, making sarcasm drip from every word. _No need to tell Zeb that the very idea of being claimed by his scent makes his heart race._ “Well, we could have planned that whole thing out better with further details. If we’d have known that there was going to be a den full of Krykna, then I would have suggested a path with different escape routes.”

A massive, open hand extends towards him. Kallus takes it, allowing himself to be hoisted up. 

“And if _I_ woulda known that there’d be a singular, _Ashla-damned_ Krykna,” Zeb rumbles, “I wouldn’t have come here in the first place.” The language of his body, however, denies the coarseness of his words; Zeb’s ears are flicked in attention towards Kallus, and his body leans close, caring and concerned. Even though they’d been off to a rocky start, Kallus feels the anger beginning to fade. 

“Well, when my general gives me orders, I don’t ask too many questions,” Kallus sniffs. He shakes his arm to rid rancid goo from his gloves, lamenting the need for yet another pair.

Suddenly, Zeb’s whole frame is looming over him. “Now, you an’ I both know that isn’t entirely true,” his friend growls, smirking at him from above. His green eyes twinkle with playfulness, even though his voice is low. “And good thing for the rebellion, too. Otherwise, ya never would’ve gotten away from that blue bastard.” 

Kallus blushes, stepping out from under Zeb’s leaning arm.

He raises a hand to brush back his hair, but only finds himself a fistful of green, slimy fluid spread between his fingers. Winching, he replies, “you’re too generous, Zeb.” Kallus drops his hand to the side and flicks his fingers. “As usual.” A grunt of disagreement catches his attention, and Kallus looks up, surprised. 

“Nah. If I was able to be as generous with my time as I want, you an’ I woulda been out here huntin’ monsters _ages_ ago.”

Zeb scratches the back of his head--a sign that Kallus has come to recognize as a tick of embarrassment--and his tall ears fold downward. Even these small, familiar gestures make his heart pound painfully inside of his chest. “M’sorry, Kal. I know that yer mad at me about somethin'. I suspected that you’ve been busy with all of yer new duties, and you didn’t like having to be pulled away from yer troops to go on a mission with me.” 

Kallus blinks, caught by surprise. He almost laughs at the ludicrousness of Zeb’s misunderstanding of it. 

“Zeb, _what?”_ he says, placing a hand on his friend’s arm. _(It probably wasn’t the best idea, in afterthought; his palm sticks to the purple fur, coating it with noxious entrails)._ “I haven’t been giving you the cold shoulder because I’m upset about leaving my new team of soldiers. I’m upset because you and I haven’t been able to even talk since we’ve arrived here at base!” _It's been terrible, doing all of this without you._ No matter what words he'd lied through his teeth to Zeb's friend Ghillie earlier, he's been in pieces of misery since Zeb's departure.

For a moment, he watches the Lasat’s jaw hang open. Then, he finds himself blushing as the other man smirks.

"Aw, so ya _did_ miss me!” Zeb teases knowingly, throwing an arm around Kallus' shoulders and rocking the man into his side. “And here I was thinkin’ that you were unhappy to see me again!” Blushing harder than ever, Kallus snorts and rolls his eyes. However, his mind is buzzing with pleasure. _Zeb! Right here, next to me! Right here, fighting and joking and laughing with me, like we always do!_ Appreciatively, he shuffles his face closer into the warmth of Zeb’s snowsuit. Kallus relishes the radiant warmth that the alien puts out from his furry frame, sighing with the relief of their closeness after so much time in the lonely cold. 

“Hey, take it easy there, Kal!” Zeb chuckles softly. “Or yer gonna wipe that spider snot all over that pretty face of yers.” 

Stunned, Kallus looks up. He feels a bit out of breath as Zeb rubs a gloved thumb over his cheekbone. It might have even been romantic, had he not tracked a smear of noxious, green slime over his skin. Slime that smelled _far_ too much like an unwashed bantha’s back-end. 

“Zeb…” he begins, voice wavering and unsure. _Is this...the time? Is he...maybe we should...?_

But the Lasat’s ears begin to twitch, and he turns and looks quickly over his shoulder. “ _Karabast,”_ Zeb growls, dropping the warm arm from around Kallus’ shoulders and reaching once again for his bo-rifle strapped to his back. “I think we’re gonna be gettin’ a bit more company. Are ya ready for round two, Kal?” 

The earnestness with which he asks Kallus is breathtaking. 

Starstruck, he takes in a moment to look at his friend: the way that his massive, strong chest rises and falls, huffing breaths of clouded mist into the cave. The way that his ears twitch towards the scuttling, many-legged sounds farther down the tunnel, preparing them both for danger. The way that his green, feline eyes are illuminated with playful light, ready and willing to engage in battle. 

Readying himself, Kallus nods and smiles.

“Sure, Zeb. Let me grab my blaster. Think I left it beneath that ruptured bladder...or _whatever_ is that green gut-sack.” Words that would have turned other men off make his best friend break into a dazzling smile. Zeb thumps his shoulder with an open, four-fingered hand, making Kallus stagger beneath the friendly strength of it.

“Good man!” he aughs. “I just knew that you had it in ya!”

With a final, beaming look back at Kallus, he turns towards the cave. Dashing into danger at a four-footed lope, he calls back over his shoulder: “Last one there’s a rotten Utinni!”

* * *

Stepping gingerly around the once-filled shells of ruptured Krykna eggs, Zeb approaches the steaming, blue-white pool. 

“Think it’s safe,” he declares, sniffing discerningly at the water. “And, better yet, I think it’s _warm.”_ He glances at Alexsandr Kallus, who has been coated with yet-another layer of sludgy, green entrails. “Heh-heh, and it’s _wet,_ Kal. You’re all about that.” 

From across the distance, his human friend glares. But Zeb knows that he’s only teasing; since the rocky beginning to their mission journey, things have only got better and better. At the start, Kallus had been rigid and quiet, steadily ignoring Zeb and his offered invitations of friendship. It had been deeply surprising and uncomfortable for him: _Didn’t Kallus want to see me? Didn’t he miss me, too? What exactly has got a Verpine in his bonnet?_

But then, after cracking open their first spider--and the true nature of Kallus’ brooding--things had only steadily bloomed.

Working in perfect tandem, they’d finished off two more rounds of Krykna; and then, flush with the fun and pride of victory, they’d followed the fresh trail back to their lair. Sure enough, Zeb and Kallus located what was supporting the life of the creatures: a bubbling, heat source. And, to Zeb’s great delight, it appears to be none other than an inviting, fresh-water _hot spring._ Which is great, because right now, _nothing_ sounds to Zeb then spending a few hours soaking in a hot, cleansing bath with his best friend. 

“Let’s do it!” Zeb says, tugging at the neck of his snowsuit. "This is gonna feel _great."_

The gurgling, strangled sound of a gasp makes his head whip around. Kallus is standing at the edge of the hot spring, looking as though he is _very_ surprised. He shifts the weight of his muscular body back and forth from foot to foot, and his hand twitches to run a soothing set of fingers through his mussed hair. Zeb doesn’t miss the way that his human flushes, nor the way that his gaze flicks between his own body and Zeb’s. 

“What?” he asks the former Imperial, sounding affronted. “Too good for skinny dippin? All that uptight-ISB training keep ya from havin’ some fun even now that yer a rebel?” 

He knows that he’s won the battle when Kallus makes a scoffing, offended noise and begins to shuffle out of his boots. Grinning and turning his back to his friend, Zeb works at the zip-seals of his snowsuit. _Don’t make a big deal out of this,_ he tells himself, pulling down the top of his suit and working his arms out from the puffy sleeves. _This is the first time that you’ve seen Kal in a while. Can’t spook him off, just when things are getting more normal._

Committed to this decision, Zeb shoves the top half of the thick fabric down, begins to step his long legs from the portion of trousers. 

There is a splash from behind him, and Zeb turns just in time to receive an incoming wave of hot, bright-blue water right in his face. “Karabast!” he laughs, wiping a paw over his eyes. The heat of the steaming liquid feels _good,_ and Zeb grins even as he cleans a bubble water out of an ear. “Yer a kriffin’ idot, Kal. And I when I get in there, I’m gonna--” when he opens his eyes, his words catch suddenly in his throat. 

Kallus is _naked_. Completely, without any kind of remaining undergarments. And the clarity of the steaming pool leaves _very_ little to the imagination. 

Zeb swallows, fighting to keep the aroused ruffle of the fur on his chest, neck and shoulders to a minimum. Rather than looking shy, the human stares back at him defiantly. The pink on his cheeks could be an answering blush-- _or,_ it could just be the heat of the water. Regardless, he raises a challenging eyebrow at Zeb, stroking the surface of the glowing water. 

“Well? What are you waiting for?” his former nemesis asks. “I thought you said that we’re doing this.” 

_Kriff, don’t I_ **_wish!_** Zeb thinks to himself.

Even with his eyes squeezed tightly closed, it doesn’t banish the lingering image of Alexsandr Kallus: bare to the skin, calm water rippling under his hands, dripping from his long, golden-blonde hair. Zeb thinks of the hard, compact muscles just beneath the surface; of the dark, downward trail of curled, ginger hairs upon his navel... “Alright, _alright,”_ he says, as though it is the man himself who is actually nagging him. “Give me just a moment, and I’ll join ya.” 

Zeb inhales, and musters the courage to continue. 

He withdraws his knee, then his ankle, from the snowsuit trousers. He casts the discarded, mustard-yellow suit to the side. Giving his slick, dripping slip a threatening look, he works his way over towards the side of the pool. _Don’t make a big deal out of it,_ he tells himself again, feeling his body thrill with the feeling of pleasure as he slides in chest-deep into the water. _Still don’t wanna scare him off._ Zeb huffs pleasurably through his nose as the delicious feeling of heat rushes into his bones, soaking beneath his short fur and dousing his sweat-coated skin.

“Took you long enough,” Kallus quips. 

Zeb grunts and rolls his eyes as he works his way over. The hot spring is surprisingly deep, and he must be fully stretched out to his tallest statue in order to grip the rocky surface of the pool with his dexterous feet. Typically, this is the sort of physical prowess of which he would be proud to show off around someone like Kallus; but, typically, he is not naked, and _inches_ from poking outside of his sheath. 

“Get washin’, stinky,” he says to his friend. Kallus grins and makes a splash at him for the rudeness, and Zeb splashes back. “Oh, is _this_ what we’re doin?!” 

In their regular fashion, it soon becomes a competition of strength and skill. Kallus laughs and dodges out of the way, throwing wide handfuls of water at him. Zeb, in turn, ducks low to the surface, churning tall waves in his direction. With the addition of grinning and good-natured ribbing, it was much like any one of their battles. _Fluid,_ Zeb thinks, putting hands on Kal’s shoulders and shoving him underwater. _Well-matched and balanced with one another._

His human emerges spitting water and panting, grinning from ear-to-hear on his flushed face. 

The skin beneath Zeb’s hands suddenly feels much more heated and _softer._ He flinches, ears folding back as he realizes that Kallus’ full bodyweight is pressed up against him, thrusting him back towards the edge of the rocky hot spring. Kallus, too, must have realized how this all looked: wild-haired, sweaty-faced, plastered against Zeb. The hands resisting him drop, and Kalus sinks into the water, blushing. 

_Say something!_ Zeb thinks urgently, watching his friend bobbing into a tread. _Make it better!_

“Er,” Zeb says, reaching behind his head and scratching an ear. “Heh-heh, old habits die hard. Sorry Kal, I know I was playin’ a little rough there.” He watches the tips of Kallus’ ears flame red, watches the pale, freckled skin of his neck and back flood with color. _Kriff it all. I’m making things worse!_ “Ah, yaknnow how it goes: Honor Guard habits. Enemies-to-friends, and all that.” 

Kallus’ eyes flicker up to him, golden and moody. Zeb watches the beads of water clinging to their lashes, slowly dripping off into the rising steam. “Ah. Right. No problem,” he replies quietly. 

Zeb’s ears fold back at the tone, recognizing it for one of those that carries regret. He drops his hand, rubbing it on his muscular arm in discomfort as he watches Kallus work his way across the pool. With his back to him, the human places his hands upon either side of the edge. Zeb _knows_ that he should look away as Kallus prepares to hoist himself out, but he _doesn’t_ \--he cannot miss, for his life, the sight of that perfect, plush ass, pink and rosy from the heatedness of the pool. _Karabast. Has he always looked like that?_

Seating himself on the edge of the pool, Kallus dangles his shins and toes into the water.

He hunches forward, arms bracketing around his knees and protectively closing off the view of his body. “Well, that should be sufficient,” Kallus murmurs, looking down into the pool. “Go ahead and finish up, Zeb. I’ll be waiting for you when you’re ready.” 

Deflating from their sudden, dizzying high, Zeb sinks low into the water. _Why did all of that suddenly go wrong?_ He wonders, scrubbing his hands through the hair on his chest. _And why are things so tense right now with Kallus? One minute, we’re laughing and brawling like friends; next minute, it’s like we’re at odds again. Does he regret re-connecting with me?_ He watches Kallus, who is trailing a fingertip through the water’s surface. _Does he resent the fact that I’m so enamored with him?_

The admission had not been intentional. Zeb gasps, making a rush of bubbles escape from his mouth in the water. _Karabast! But...isn’t it obvious?_

Watching the bowed, bare-skinned form of his friend from a distance, Zeb considers him. Kallus has never been a perfect communicator; in fact, far from it. To be completely fair, his skills as Fulcrum had been exceptional: he’d always been clear, crisp and succinct, leaving no room for question or error within his messages. However, when it came to talking about things like _feelings,_ his friend Alexsandr Kallus was _terrible._ It had taken Zeb months on Yavin IV before they’d finally talked about Lasan; it had taken them until the _spiders_ for him to say that he’d missed him. 

_"I'll be waiting for you, Zeb. When you're ready."_

_Kriff,_ Zeb thinks, brow furrowing with careful thought. _I doubt that Kallus_ **_wants_ ** _to be so closed-off. But he’s got a lot of things that he’s working with. Maybe if I try to make things clearer on my end...maybe if I go_ **_first,_ ** _like during the battle, and let him know how I’m feeling…_ Making up his mind, Zeb allows a new idea to take form. _It’s not like things between us could get any worse._

Slowly, deliberately _,_ Zeb makes his way over towards Kallus. 

The human looks up from where he traces his fingers through the water. His arms are crossed, but when he spies Zeb’s expression, his angular eyebrows lift with surprise. “What’re you doing?” Kallus asks, sounding hesitantly curious. “Zeb, there’s a whole hot spring here, with lots of room, and I--” 

He gasps sharply as the outline of Zeb’s unsheathed, spined cock bobs into view--rigid and flaring, with thick, curving veins--ready beneath the pool’s clear, steaming surface. 

“You told me to finish up...” Zeb growls in his lowest voice. He forces himself to keep his green eyes locked on Kallus’ wide, golden ones, in spite of his overflowing nervousness. _What will he say? What will he do?!_ “...An _this_ is how I was thinkin’ of finishin.” 

With a growing feeling of hopefulness, Zeb watches the pupils of Kallus’ eyes dilate. 

He watches the muscles of his lovely throat working, swallowing back words of fear or miscomprehension. He watches the color flooding out from his chest, expanding over his powerful shoulders, rippling abdominals, furred navel. He watches the man’s gaze drop to fix upon his sizable shaft, the plain, clear _desire_ that opens and unfolds over his face. So much more clearly than his words had ever yet said. 

“I-I--” Kallus stammers, licking his lips. 

Zeb’s eyes trace the way that his expertly-skilled tongue slides out of his mouth, wetting his plush lips and making them shine. He watches his freckled, flushed chest begin to heave beneath his breast; he watches his pink, shining nipples perk into rosy standing. It’s a lovely, wanton portrait of an already _ravishing_ man; and, seeing his mutual interest, Zeb does intend to completely ravish him. 

“--I didn’t _realize_ that you--that you _wanted_ \--” 

Affirmed, _delighted_ in his choice, Zeb reaches downward into the water. Threading a hand between his parted legs, he begins to stroke slowly and evidently. It’s with a feeling of unfolding relish that Zeb watches his eyes trail up and down, following each squeeze and twist of the motion within his four-fingered hand. _Maybe I’ve been doing this whole thing wrong,_ Zeb thinks, bringing his human into an open-mouthed pant with a particularly tight-fisted stroke. _Maybe I’ve been too careful. Too gentle. Making, in fact, too little of a deal out of...this._

Because this seems to be working. Kallus is practically salivating as he watches. And his own, smooth-headed cock appears to have risen to join in the action. 

“Kal…” he says, keeping his voice a baritone flicker. He rolls his shoulders, sinks his back towards the surface of the water with a groan. “...If you’d like, why don’t ya come back and join me in here? I think that it’s possible we haven’t yet got ya _dirty_ enough.” 

And _that,_ it seems, finally breaks his human’s still, frozen spell. 

Eyelids hanging low, mouth slightly open, Kallus shifts from his sitting posture to upon his knees. Gaze fixed on Zeb, cock and balls hanging heavily down between his parted legs, he shuffles forward. To his delighted surprise, former agent Alexsandr Kallus _crawls_ towards the edge of the hot spring; and Garazeb Orrelios is certain that he’s never seen anything look _half_ as seductive and beautiful. 

_“Holy shit,”_ he manages, just as Kallus throws himself into the pool.

“ _Karabast,”_ he adds, opening his arms to catch the clawing, breathless human as he tears himself through the water towards Zeb. “Ummff,” he grunts, feeling the man drive his back into the rocky shelter of the hot spring’s deep side. “Stars, _Kallus!”_ he gasps--the last words he will be able to utter outside of their gasped, lust-filled cries of passion. 

“Get _wrecked,”_ Kallus purrs, whispering Zeb’s earlier battle cry into his ear. 

If he’d dreamed it all up, Zeb couldn’t have possibly imagined it better. His breaths are explosive and needy as Kallus’ form presses against his, aligning the muscular hardness of their battle-honed forms against one another beneath the water. His grunts devolve into fitful, desperate groans as the man’s soft, human-fleshed legs wrap around him, entangling them and crushing the hot cores of their bodies together. His thrusts are marvelously, _blissfully_ perfect in time, a heady combination of hands with four fingers and five, gripping and stroking and fisting erratically. 

He feels his claws digging into the plump flesh of Kallus’ ass while he snarls and climaxes for the first time. 

“Wait, _first_ ?” Kallus gasps, mouthing the velveteen skin of Zeb’s twitching neck. _Karabast,_ Zeb thinks to himself, feeling blissed-out and invigorated all the same. _Musta said it out loud._ He can hardly tell: as of right now, he doesn’t know where his body ends, and where Kallus begins. He doesn’t know where this mission shifted, and turned into his deepest and most potent of desires. “Well, isn’t that _something_ ,” the human coos. His strong, battle-hardened hands are reaching behind him, working between Zeb’s cheeks and spreading them open. “Does this mean that you could finish your next time _inside_?” 

Head spinning with stars, Zeb pulls his best fr--his _lover_ to his chest. 

“D-do ya really think ya want _all t-that?”_ he gasps, thrusting weakly against his partner. He feels his rapidly refilling cock bounce against Kallus’ thigh, and the thought of going again makes him shudder. Already, he’s devolving into a stuttering, pleasure-drunk mess. “M’n-not exactly _s-small,_ ya know.” 

Kallus nips at his ear, using his blunt, pearly teeth to mouth at the sensitive flesh. It reminds Zeb of love-bites from Lasan, and it makes him _moan._ “ _Yessss._ Now I know!” the man whispers. “I’m more certain than _ever.”_

 _More than ever. He’s thought about this before._ Zeb groans, body arching beneath Kallus’ hands and the heated water. All traces of the thick, rancid Krykna ooze have been rubbed off him, leaving behind a heady, rich layer of organic musk. To Zeb--whose nose is far keener than any human’s--it smells like the finest of rich earth and spices. He can only _imagine_ the hot, _delicious_ scents and sensations that would come from burying himself inside Kallus… “Yeah,” he pants, feeling his erection pumping into fullness against Kallus’ smooth thigh. “Y-yes. Yes, yes. Let’s do this.” 

He feels more than sees Kallus smile as the human wraps himself once again around Zeb. “ _Perfect,”_ his lover sighs, entwining their legs together. “Because I think I know somewhere that we can get me pretty wet.” 

If the first orgasm had been good, it is _nothing_ compared to his second. Zeb finds that Kallus, much like his Fulcrum persona, is a directive, confident, and clear-headed lover. It’s his first time-- _well, Zeb’s first time with Kallus, anyway; does anyone else even matter?--_ and the human talks him through it confidently. Zeb feels his stomach lurching and reeling with love as Kallus whispers hot words and dirty thoughts into his ear, just as smoothly and easily as he instructs how to open his body. The hot water eases their movements, and it’s only a matter of time until Zeb is thrusting two fingers inside the relaxed, muscular ring of his anus. 

“C-careful with the claws,” Kallus pants, arching and sighing against Zeb’s soaking chest. “ _MMmmm!_ Yes, that’s it. Think I can take a third--or, if you’re ready--” 

_“Ready,”_ Zeb gasps, unable to manage much more. Withdrawing his buried digits from the warm embrace of Kallus’ body, he surges them upward and against the wall. Following his lover’s instructions, he raises the man’s hips just above his, then begins to slot their bodies together. “ _K-kara--karaba--”_

He’s too weak, too far gone to manage the words as Kallus thrusts down upon his thick shaft. 

Zeb’s lost in total bliss. He feels his knees trembling as the human works himself up and down, using bent elbows and hands to lever himself off the pool’s edge. He feels the spurt and rushing slickness around his shaft, hot water mingling with his natural slick. He feels the way that his lover’s tight, flexing muscles are clutching, _reaching_ for him and drawing his body in closer. Zeb groans, struggling to stay anchored to this world as he suspends the man that he loves with his hands, and that man rails into him with all of his might. 

“ _Zeb!”_ Kallus croaks, fingernails scratching over his soaking, furred forearms. “Zeb! On the floor! I need-- _closer---_!” 

Barely coherent, chest heaving with effort, Zeb surges forward and tosses the human over the ledge. He climbs up behind him, working his powerful feet so that they are both kneeling upon the dry ground. “L-like _t-this_ ?” he pants, pushing Kallus’ legs open wide. Without hesitation, he plunges forward, plowing his shaft into the other man. The feeling is so wet, so hot, so _good,_ that he feels as though he is still floating in the hot spring. 

“Y-yes, like _that!”_ Kallus keens, skin flooding red. His hands reach out into the loose, rocky dirt, digging into the surface with his slim, perfect fingernails. “Fucking _all of it, Zeb_!” 

It’s a race to the finish onward from that point. Kallus claws and scratches, whines and heaves, demanding increasingly more from Zeb. Zeb, whining with effort, determined to make the human come finally ( _and first),_ pounds down on him with every ounce of his effort. Then--perfectly, _blissfully_ \--there is a moment when Alexsandr Kallus’ breath catches, and when his golden eyes flutter closed. He reaches up, knotting his fingers in Zeb’s ruffled chest, and releases his spend in a shuddering spurt. 

“ _H-holy s-shit,”_ Zeb pants again, and he’s finished, too: unloading thick, wet ropes of voluminous, lilac-blue cum inside of the human. 

It’s too much for even a womb-bearing Lasat to contain, so Kallus is utterly unprepared for the fullness. He moans, _writhes,_ then begs blearily for Zeb to pull out. Woozy from lingering sleeplessness weighing him down _,_ Zeb drags them backwards towards the water. Dropping into the bubbling surface, he pulls Kallus towards him, running soothing hands through his soaking, blonde hair. “S-sshhh--” he urges, eyelids fluttering closed in a feeling of utter contentment, running a hand down Kallus’ shuddering back. “Ssh, Kal, s’parts g-gonna ache a little b-bit.” 

The human pants and groans. Zeb lifts his head to look him in the eye, stroking his fingers through that lovely, golden beard on his jaw. 

“M’sorry, I shoulda w-warned ya more clearly. Yer f-filled with my knot, and we’re gonna be sealed t-together here for a bit. But I p-promise,” he huffs a shuddering breath, “it’ll feel good once it goes down a little. M’s-sorry. H-hold on, there.” 

Kallus laughs softly. To Zeb’s delight, he sounds _very_ happy. And _very_ tired. “I know, Zeb, I know,” he murmurs. Kallus opens his golden eyes, tilts his head to the side in Zeb’s hand, kisses it. “Don’t apologize: I _wanted_ your knot. That’s what I _meant_ when I said--when I asked you for _all of it.”_ A wave of delighted relief affection ripples through Zeb. He shudders, feeling the flare of the organ locked inside Kallus twitch with sensation.

“Ya _knew?”_ he asks, heart trembling inside of his chest. “What, didja do some _research_ during these last few weeks apart?” 

The human grins back at him cheekily, eyes still lazy with sex and exhaustion. Emboldened, Zeb bows his head forward for a kiss. To his delighted surprise, Kallus returns it. “Try the last few _years,”_ he admits in a sleepy voice, kissing the Lasat’s open palm once again. “You expected me not to look into it after Bahryn?” 

Zeb kisses the man again, but this time, with more earnestness. _You’ve wanted me since then?!_ He wants to yell, wants to _scream_ , inside of his head. But instead, he grins and mouths into a kiss sliding their searching, warm lips together. _I guess, to be fair, that’s how long I’ve wanted you._

_So that makes the two of us, with our communication problems…_

Whatever other rouge thoughts that he has, they get lost in the hot slide of lips, teeth and tongue. Garazeb Orrelios has had many kisses, but not ones like this before. Not ones with his _partner_ \--someone that he’s considered his enemy, best friend, and _lover,_ all at different times. No doubt from the way that they battle, Kallus and Zeb are soulmates; and now, regarding the way that they fuck, he has no doubt that they’re meant to be together. Zeb groans into the delightful feeling of being latched deep inside of the other man, his tongue searching and sliding inward just the same as his cock is buried inside. Kallus, it seems, also appreciates the feeling of the moment: his mouth is pliant and open, and he searches for deeper and more increasingly passionate kisses. 

After what seems like hours--and yet, no time at all--Zeb feels himself unlatch.

When Kallus gasps, he knows that the barb that connects them has unhitched from his prostate, and that the knot that has swollen in size to keep them together has now begun to deflate into workable size. _“Easy,”_ Zeb murmurs, hands framing Kallus as he watches the man squirm with sensation. However, his fears are abated as the human shivers and flushes, his nipples once again perking into lusty fullness. It appears that the thick, heavy slide of thickened spend from inside of his body is something that feels _sensual_ to his lover rather than painful.

Or dirty. 

“Er,” he says, watching the clear pool filling with pearlescent fluid around them, “I s’pose we better get outta here, then. If we want to make our way back to base in _relative_ cleanliness.” 

To his mild surprise, he watches the human lounge back in the water. Kallus bobs there languidly, steam rising over his face and chest, with a look of calm and contentment over his face. “Nah, Zeb,” he says with a sigh. “From what I understand, we’ve both earned a break. What do you say to washing that slime from our suits...and taking our time until they’re all dry before heading back?” 

The fluttering, warm feeling of hope inside of Zeb’s chest blooms.

 _He wants this,_ Zeb thinks, watching the beautiful man on top of the waves. _He wants to stay with me, and to share more of this kind of time._ The idea of it is enchanting, but something gnaws at the back of his head. Daring to try out what he’s learned once again, Zeb decides to put his thoughts into words. 

“That, uh, that sounds nice. But, Kallus?” He rubs behind an ear, looking at the water’s surface. “Are you...are _we_ just gonna go back to base and pretend that this never happened? Or are things _different_ now, between us?” He looks up, finding Kallus’ golden eyes on him, softened. “Because...I don’t want that. I want _this_. I want... _us.”_ He gestures to his own chest, naked and bare. “I don’t wanna go back to how things were before.” 

To his relief, Kallus nods encouragingly. He strokes through the water towards Zeb, wrapping his arms around his chest. 

“Garazeb Orrelios,” the human murmurs, pressing his lips to his fuzzy chest. “I’ve been waiting for something like this for _so long,_ but I’ve never known exactly how to say it. And I’ve been afraid that you wouldn’t feel the same. _So…”_ he kisses Zeb, lightly, just over his lips. “I’d like to be your partner _everywhere,_ and not just on missions.” 

Warmth--even more soothing and lovely than this heated pool--floods through Zeb’s body.

It starts in his heart, and radiates out to his fingers and toes. He finds his ears twitching, and his mouth smiling. Sighing, he kisses Kallus back once again. “M’really glad that we’re learning to talk,” he chuckles, pulling the other man close. “Yeah, I’d like that. _Yes,_ we’re together.” He raises his gaze, looks at the destroyed snowsuits. “And, _YEAH._ I’m down with washing those things out. And hey, who knows? By the time that they’re dry…” he grins, squeezing Kallus and grinning flirtateously. “...We might be ready to dirty each other again.” 

Kallus snorts, rolling his eyes. But he rubs his face fondly into Zeb's furry chest, embracing as if he will never let go. “Then I guess we've got options,” he whispers.

Warm, luminous water swirls around them, and Zeb feels his heart melting inside of his chest. He sighs, relaxing into the bubbling water, holding onto the man he adores. They've come a _long_ way since Bahryn: a long way since he'd faced down that irate, steel-coated man on the ice moon; a long way since they'd fallen into begruding trust of each other, gradually building something like friendship. As Garazeb cradles Kallus to his chest, he recounts the various times and places that they had met: from when Ezra had tried to rescue Fulcrum from the Empire, to the time that he'd finally brought him home in an escape-pod after his former Grand Admiral's torture. 

Garazeb Orrelios had never expected himself to fall in love with Alexandr Kallus. But after all the scars and the stories they've shared, he cannot _imagine_ anyone else. 

He doesn't realize that he's fallen asleep and begun snoring until his lover is kissing him gently awake. "Hey there, Captain," Kallus murmurs. He's lying upon Zeb's chest, and they're floating together, resting in the warm water. "I just checked on the snowsuits, and they're looking ready. Why don't we take this whole thing back to 'Base?" he grins softly, running his hands over the darkened, wet hair mussed upon Zeb's chest. "I'm really fond of the idea spending the rest of the night with you in my bunk..." 

Stirring from his restful slumber, Zeb returns the press of Kallus' lips. 

"I like that idea," he rumbles. "Although, ya got one part wrong: yer gonna be stayin' _my_ bunk." He chuffs at Kallus' laughter, smoothing the length of his soft, headed skin underneath his hands. "Aww, don't be like that. Unlike you humans, I don't have roommates. Something or other about the _smell_." 

Kallus' nose wrinkles in protest. He leans down, kissing him soundly. "They're all fools. You _don't_ smell," he whispers. "And, even if you did: _I'd like it."_

Captain Garazeb Orrelios laughs. The rippling motion of his belly shakes both himself and Kallus, jostling them in the steaming water. Thier soaking, entwined forms bob up and down, sinking briefly beneath the water before bobbing back up. "Comin' from a guy who just bathed in Lasat cum and spider guts," he responds playfully, "m'gonna just take that promise at yer sweet word."   
  


* * *

When captains Alexsandr Kallus and Garazeb Orrelios stride back into camp, a cluster of anxious rebels is waiting. 

_"Zeb!"_ General Hera Syndulla cries. The green-skinned Twi'lek woman rushes forward, throwing her arms around her fellow Spectre. Hera, never before one to fret, has been _extra_ anxious about her crew's whereabouts since the sudden, painful loss of her partner Kanan. The absence of her Lasat's presence seems to have shaken her. "Why didn't you comm? Don't _scare_ us like that." Recovering from her moment's concern, she punches him firmly, and right in the gut.

Kallus winces, watching his lover bend and gasp for his breath. "Good to see you too, Hera," Zeb grunts breathlessly, yet his shoulders are shaking with painful laughter. "Sorry to make ya worried." 

There is a tap on his shoulder and Kallus steps aside, making room for General Organa. "Captain Kallus!" she greets. "I see that you and Captain Orrelios have returned in one piece. I take it from the cheerful looks on your faces that this has been a very successful mission?" She is nothing but professional, but Kallus suspects that he is, once again, the butt of a silent joke. 

"Successful indeed," Kallus says, sweeping the hat off his head to brush back his cleaned, golden hair. "Not only did we locate the lair of Krykna, but we were able to pinpoint the heat source of their nest." 

"Krykna? _Nice!"_ exclaims a familiar voice. Kallus startles and turns to see Ghillie standing there among the others. The human pilot is grinning at Zeb, as thought the pair of them are sharing a moment. "Bet you got to see this one jump out of his stripy skin." They poke a finger into Zeb's side, but the plush of his ugly snowsuit protects him. 

"Hey, cut out out, short stack!" Zeb chuffs, ruffling the pilot's curled hair. "Why is everybody gangin' up on me? It was _Kal's_ idea to go skinny dippin." 

Kallus cringes as he feel all heads turning his direction. Between Hera's smirk, Leia's mirth, and Ghillie's gleeful incredulity, he cannot bear to look anywhere but his toes. At first, the only thing he can feel is embarrassment; but then, as the heat of his blush blooms through his chest, he also realizes it as something else. _Pleasure_ _._ "As I said," Kallus mutters, speaking more to the floor than to his companions, "It was a successful mission, all the way around." 

Ghillie cheers. Leia chuckles. Hera just smiles. 

And Garazeb Orrelios, warm and caring and _real,_ throws a heavy arm around his shoulders. Leaning into Kallus with all of his weight, and steering them towards the rebel barracks, the Lasat calls cheerfully over his shoulder. "That's right! We're _boyfriends_ now! And there ain't nothin' that you can do to separate us!" Leaning down to nuzzle his furred cheek against Kallus, he whispers: "Except for maybe some sleep. C'mon, Kal: I've got a few down porg-stuffin' pillows to introduce to ya." 

Kallus smiles. His smaller fingertips twine within the warm hold of Zeb's. 

Maybe Echo Base wasn't going to be _so_ bad after all. Maybe, with a little additional sleep ( _and somebody beside him for warmth),_ Kallus will begin to feel better. Already, he knows that his world feels that much brighter to just have Garazeb at his side. Already, he feels as though the pair of them can conquer the world: be it spiders, or lizard-birds, or blue Imperials. Yawning widely, Kallus leans into Zeb. He allows himself to be steered, hears all of the other sounds fading away. By the time that they reach the Lasat's doorway, his eyelids are drooping heavily, and he almost snores where he's standing. 

"Good news," Zeb murmurs, brushing his fallen bangs out of his eyes. "Now that Ghillie's no longer assigned as your personal bodyguard, now they can go back to sharing more of my night shifts."

Shocked, Kallus opens his mouth. He's prepared to offer protest, but Zeb places one of his massive, clawed fingers over his parted lips. He presses down gently, hushing the words before they are said. "You didn't _really_ expect me to just go on and leave you alone on this new, barren planet, did ya?" he asks, eyes twinkling. "C'mon, Kal: I asked one of my most trusted rebels to follow yer trail at all hours. That way, ya wouldn't get into any trouble that I couldn't get handle within some reason." 

Beneath Zeb's hand, Kallus feels his lips tremble. Rather than break into a grateful sob, Kallus kisses the hand where it rests upon him. "Thank you," he whispers, eyes shining with tears. "I had...I had _no idea."_

Purring with affection, Garrazeb Orrelios kneels down. In a motion that reminds him of the hot springs, the Lasat scoops him up effortlessly into his arms. "Yer welcome, Kallus," he replies cheerfully. "And, hopefully, you're gonna get a whole lot more where that came from, now that we're together." He squeezes the human, gathering him into his chest. "M'sorry that I didn't just tell ya. I'm sorry that I didn't let ya know I was there, and that I didn't just keep ya close to myself." He kisses Kallus' cheek, making him flood with warmth. "But I'm gonna do better. From now on: we're gonna work on our communication. No guesswork."

Kallus yawns, nuzzling into his _boyfriend's_ chest. "Good," he replies sleepily. "Then take me to bed, Zeb. I haven't slept properly since Yavin IV." 

* * *

END

**Author's Note:**

> Uff da, first fic in a while! I feel out of shape!!! Anyway, send some love/kudos/comments if you have time. I'm in a bit of a slump, and your words of encouragement help me keep writing. Thanks!


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